


Getting There

by Justausernameonline



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amelie is a sniper dancer aerospace engineer fight me, Before and After shiz, Flash Fiction, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, Valse Romantique by Debussy, besties, pre-Widowtracer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justausernameonline/pseuds/Justausernameonline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lena and Amelie have little barriers.  It takes more than impersonal conversations for Tracer and Widowmaker to scale them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting There

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to write flash fiction, and I tried to write about Widowtracer, although this is before they start a relationship. I imagined Lena was 19 and Amelie 26 here, and their dynamic is different from Pharmercy and I apologize for inconsistencies. Comments and critique are appreciated!

Down to one coffee, Lena disposes her tray and completes her route about the watchpoint, stopping at the sweep of a hangar balcony.  She locates Amelie through the throng, shelved in a corner, and blinks surely to the ground towards them, glad the drink stays in its container for once.  From the peak of her recovery to tangible reality, Overwatch has assigned her to skirmishes and the practice range while dissuading her from aviation endeavors she can no longer access by a lanyard or name.  Isolated from the cockitpit for good reasons, she stays aloft stretching at her tethers, gaining back bit by bit some semblance of flying.  Jogging the remaining distance she stops in wonder.  

     It's not everyday Amelie sleeps before she tidies away.  Lena can only trade looks at the sleeping woman napping around a disassembled rifle set on a folding table, _napping_ across riveting, shouting people, keening and moving supplies by the dozen, and coffee.   Lena checks the name on the cup.   _Amelia_ is close enough.  For sure, Amelie can set a Guinness World Record for intensive slumbering if someone laid her by a working jet turbine, maybe even snore.  Lena doesn't know what to do with this idea.  She wags her head and reaches for Amelie's shoulder.  Her blouse is already wrinkled, so why not? Lena trills her fingers furiously and stands back.

     Amelie rises in a languid daze framed by the rifle parts, dark side-swept fringes puffy with static.  Lena gapes at the strange bump on her tanned temple but pieces it to her wedding ring, presenting the coffee wordlessly.

     "Lena?" Amelie mumbles.  She raises her chin to meet Lena's eyes, hers hazel and shimmering from the overhead lights.  Her gaze refocuses.  "Oh, thank you." She knocks some of the parts off the folding table and they both watch them clatter off the table in a sweet tune despite everything.  Amelie glowers and accepts the coffee.  "I can handle this."

     Lena shrugs and scoops the parts back to the table.  "No problem.  But welcome back!" Amelie gives her a wry look that's marred by her messy hair and marked head.  Lena can appreciate getting the coffee run right when the woman doesn't nod off in the middle of sniping practice with Ana or ensuring on-demand Overwatch aircraft and spacecraft are functional.  Now that she sees Amelie reorder the parts into columns and rows, she could ask why Amelie isn't among the crowd of the hangar where shipments are clogging entry.  

     "Why-" Lena peers at the parts between Amelie's fingertips and her thoughts go elsewhere, "why not ask her?"

     "I enjoy a challenge." Amelie says, but her frown is unconvincing.  She pinches the bridge of her nose.  "But this is quite embarrassing."

     "No one's looking."

     "You are."

     Lena exaggerates her her height with all weight on her tiptoes.  The trainers don't give much height.  Honestly, more people are preoccupied mucking around a broken crate of shotguns to watch Amelie Lacroix assemble a sniper rifle at a snail's pace.  And she's just an ex-pilot.  "Then what am I?"

     "A convenient distraction." Amelie draws the words out.  She smiles behind her coffee as Lena snorts.

     "Haha."

     "What matters is taking my time, even when nothing's been completed..."

     "Sure, Amelie.  Also, take a break, it looks like you're on the losing side of this one." Lena distracts herself from the smile curving on Amelie's lips by studying the parts, swinging a foot lightly against the floor.  On a lucky guess she fits two parts together and sets it parallel to the others.  "And knackered."

     "I'll keep that in mind." Amelie takes them gratefully.  "We're almost ready, I can feel it." Lena bobs her head and watches Amelie continue trying.  Their grins are almost identical.  

 

 

 


End file.
